


I Need You

by blithelybonny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Polyjuice Potion Use, Fighting, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Jealousy, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, Referenced Draco/Jack, Referenced Draco/unnamed OMCs, Referenced Harry/Dean, Rough Sex, Self-Destructive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five (and one) times that Harry Potter needed to save Draco Malfoy, or five times that Draco Malfoy needed something else entirely (and one time he didn’t).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The first time, Malfoy thanked him.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brief_and_Dreamy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brief_and_Dreamy/gifts).



> Dear Mel, I hope you enjoy this small gift and have an absolutely wonderful holiday. Also, with a mountain of thanks to the small village who helped me through this process. You know who you are, and I will recognise you properly upon reveals.

**Chapter One:** _The first time, Malfoy thanked him._

Harry awoke from a dream where he’d died. He inhaled deeply through his nose and, closing his eyes again, let out the scream in a rush of breath instead of a shout. It was late, or early depending on the perspective, and he didn’t want to wake anyone up. He knew that he could, of course. He knew that he could throw off all the blankets, bolt from his bed and crawl into Ron’s or Dean’s, mould himself to their bodies until they opened their arms and gathered him in to hold until the panic subsided enough to sleep again. He knew this because it was a regular occurrence the other way round.

Once, Ron stood over him, looking overlarge in his too-small pyjamas, hands shaking at his sides, chest heaving as he struggled to pull in enough air, and he didn’t let his face crumple, didn’t let a single tear fall until Harry had pulled back the covers and opened his arms. Ron whispered, ‘Fred,’ and pressed his face into Harry’s neck, and Harry just let him cry. He smoothed his hands down Ron’s back and kissed Ron’s sweaty hair and murmured soft, comforting things that never really would have worked except it was nighttime and Ron needed to hear them so badly.

Once, Harry couldn’t sleep, and he heard Dean thrashing about in his bed across the room.

(They’d made a pact, the three of them, after two weeks of exhaustion and furtive glances in the morning, that they wouldn’t put Imperturbable Charms on their bed-curtains at night anymore. They needed to be able to hear each other. They couldn’t help each other if they couldn’t hear.)

Harry slipped from his bed and opened the curtains to find Dean with one hand stuffed into his mouth and the other hand wrapped around his cock, barely half-hard. Dean dropped both hands, let them fall to his sides on the bed, and panted, as Harry carefully nudged him over to drop down on the bed next to him. ‘I thought I could…’ Dean whispered, staring up at the canopy. ‘But it doesn’t...it won’t--’ His voice broke, and he couldn’t continue.

‘I know,’ Harry replied. He did, he knew. It had happened to him too a few times, with Ginny and alone. ‘I think we think we don’t deserve it.’

Dean turned his head away, exhaling sharply. ‘Maybe we don’t,’ he said. He reached down and carefully tucked himself back into his pyjama pants. ‘Maybe there’s a lot of things we don’t deserve.’

Harry reached across and grasped Dean by the chin until he was looking at Harry in the eyes. ‘Don’t talk like that,’ he said urgently. Then, he crowded close until Dean was nestled into the cradle of Harry’s arms. Dean wrapped his arms around Harry’s back and pressed his nose into the hollow of Harry’s throat. Harry could feel Dean’s cock pressed against his own, a warm, solid weight, and hours later, when Harry woke up, Dean was hard and unconsciously rolling his hips against Harry’s body. ‘Maybe you just needed a good night’s sleep,’ Harry murmured into Dean’s hair.

So Harry knew he could just get up and go over to Ron’s bed, climb in and let himself fall apart in his best friend’s arms. He knew that he could slip into Dean’s bed and shake apart in Dean’s careful, considerate hands. But neither option felt right. He hadn’t had a nightmare. He’d had a dream -- a dream of something that had really happened. He had died. He had died less than five months ago. He had died, and he was still alive.

Harry felt himself smile as the panic melted away. He counted his fingers and toes. He skimmed his hands along his bare chest, drew a circle around his left nipple and shivered as the sensation traveled to his cock. He followed it with his hand and stroked the length of himself with a sure grip. And after he spilled hot and sticky over his hand with a barely muffled cry, he took a deep breath in and released it slowly. He did it again, twice, three times, trying to give himself over to the peace of sleep again.

His eyes had fluttered closed finally when he heard the door to their bedroom open and swiftly shut. Harry came immediately out of bed with wand in hand. He pushed himself through the curtains and reached under the bed for his Invisibility Cloak..

Ron was still asleep, but Dean poked his head out of the curtains, worry writ large on his face.

‘I’ve got it,’ Harry said, in a low voice, before he put up the hood and disappeared from view. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Dean would be in Ron’s bed when Harry inevitably returned to their bedroom.

He saw the flap of robes as someone disappeared down the stairs at the end of the corridor, and Harry hurried to follow after the intruder. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline familiar and welcome after the sluggish peace of his orgasm. He could almost feel his magic crackling and thrumming under his skin, like a living thing, ready to do whatever he wanted it to do.

He reached the common room and sucked in a quiet breath when he saw Malfoy sitting before the half-dead fire. He watched as Malfoy stoked it, patiently and non-magically, until it was roaring merrily again.

‘Malfoy,’ another voice hissed in the darkness.

Malfoy turned, as if expecting it, and Harry quickly stepped further into the room, just as a Gryffindor seventh year Harry knew by face, if not name, came into the room as well.

The firelight shone bright against Malfoy’s pale hair, enough that it caught Harry’s attention again, as Malfoy rose up from his crouch, but only enough to get on his knees.

‘If you’re looking for forgiveness,’ the other boy -- Sloper, Jack Sloper, Harry recalled -- said, as he slithered over to the big red armchair that Harry liked to sit in and draped his legs over the arm, ‘you aren’t going to find it here.’

‘I know,’ Malfoy replied.

‘But you’re welcome, of course, to try earning it.'

Malfoy placed his hands on the ground and crawled from his place before the fire to the big red armchair that Harry always sat in, and Hermione and Ron sat in the other two, or sometimes one when they shared a seat, and it was their space. Malfoy crawled over to it, and Jack leaned forward a little, reaching out a hand and placing it atop Malfoy’s head. He threaded his fingers through the pale strands and pulled tightly, drawing a pained hiss from Malfoy.

'I'm so-sorry,' Malfoy stammered, as Jack pulled his head back further. 'I'm so sorry I failed you, my Lord.'

Harry’s blood ran cold, then immediately hot with a fury he hadn’t felt in years.

'You are so very weak--what the fuck?’

Harry had ripped the Cloak from his body, revealing himself, and thrust his wand into Jack’s throat. ‘Stay away from him,’ Harry all but growled, nearly crawling on top of him, as he crowded Jack back against the chair.

‘Potter,’ Malfoy said, but Harry barely registered it. ‘Potter, it’s all right.’

‘In what fucking _universe_ is this all right?’ Harry asked, incredulous, even as he dug his wand more pointedly into Jack’s throat. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Malfoy stepped up behind Harry and reached around to put his hand on Harry’s wand arm. ‘Potter, please, stop this. It’s...it’s okay, it’s fine, really. I, er, I asked him to, to do this for me. We agreed and he invited me...I asked him to do it.’

Harry whirled on Malfoy, shoving him backward. ‘You _asked_ for this? You asked to fucking playact some...what, some...some,’ Harry tripped over his words. His thoughts raced in his head, he couldn’t settle on one thing. He couldn’t even comprehend what was happening, what he’d seen, what...was he dreaming still? Had he not woken up? ‘What are you even doing?’

Malfoy opened his mouth to answer and shut it again. He looked away ashamed. 

Jack got up from the chair and stepped forward, hands outstretched and telegraphing his movements carefully. 'It’s nothing, Harry, really. Malfoy just...sometimes he needs--'

'--how would you know what he needs?' Harry interrupted. He furrowed his brow then, considering. Why did it always feel like he couldn't think straight when it came to Malfoy?

'I don't know, Harry,' Jack said quietly. 'He asked me to do it, and I wanted to help.'

Harry turned back to Malfoy, who still wouldn’t look at him. ‘You _asked_ for this?’ he repeated, incredulous.

‘Sloper, get out of here,’ Malfoy then said in a low voice. ‘Please.’

The “please” caught Harry more off guard than he wanted to admit, and he watched Malfoy carefully, not even bothering to see if Jack complied with Malfoy’s request. ‘You wanted me to see this,’ Harry said, accusing. ‘You opened the door to our room because you wanted me to follow you, to see this. Why?’

Malfoy let himself fall gracelessly to the couch, eyes still very much fixed on the floor at Harry’s feet. ‘Do I have to have a reason?’ he asked, his tone strange suddenly.

‘Malfoy.’ Harry stepped closer and reached out before he even thought about it, the need to touch, the need to make contact so ingrained in him by now with his friends that it seemed natural even with an enemy. His fingers slipped beneath Malfoy’s pointy chin, tipped his face upward until Malfoy’s gaze was forced on him.

Malfoy’s lips twisted slowly into a smirk, and Harry wanted to let go of him, but he couldn’t seem to communicate that to his own hand. ‘There’s something I want from you,’ he said.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course there is.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing all that bad, Potter.’ Malfoy tilted his head slightly, leaning into Harry’s hand, and Harry moved with it too, cupping Malfoy’s jaw with more intent. ‘I think you might actually enjoy it,’ Malfoy added, barely above a whisper.

Harry took his hand away, let it fall to his side where it immediately clenched into a fist. ‘What do you want?’

Malfoy’s eyes followed Harry’s hand, but then he looked up again, and his expression had changed once more. ‘I want you to--’ he broke off, and when he didn’t speak for a very long moment, Harry nearly turned and left. But then, he continued, in a very small voice, ‘will you use _Imperius_ on me?’

‘What?’ Harry took an involuntary step backward, clutching his wand hard and tightening the fist of his other hand. ‘Why would you-- why would I ever-- no, Malfoy, fuck! Why would you even want that?’

‘I want to know what it feels like.’ Malfoy looked evenly at Harry, and his voice didn’t waver, as he continued, ‘and I want you to make me feel that way.’

Harry opened his mouth to protest again. Briefly and even a little hysterically, he thought that Malfoy already _knew_ what _Imperius_ felt like because Barty Crouch Jr. had put them all under it in Defence class fourth year. But then, instead, Harry said, ‘You know how it feels, Malfoy. You’ve used it yourself.’

‘No, I--’ Malfoy said quickly, and rose from his lounge on the couch. He took a step forward towards Harry, even as Harry stepped back again. ‘I know how it feels to...to take--’ He cut off again and looked away.

And Harry thought that he might possibly have understood what Malfoy was trying to say. Because Harry knew, too, how it felt to have that kind of power over another person. He knew how it felt to take away another person’s will, how to bend that will to his own desires. He knew how, even though he had used it solely in service of fighting against the truly Dark forces in the world, had used it only because it was absolutely necessary, sick to his very guts it had made him feel to take away something so precious as free will.

‘You never…’ Harry trailed off.

‘No,’ Malfoy answered. ‘I...I used it, but I never...the Dark Lord, he never...not on me.’

At the mention of Voldemort, Harry flashed hot again, eyes narrowing. He stepped back to take a seat on his chair, but he stopped just short because it wasn’t his chair anymore. Malfoy’d corrupted it with whatever sick game he’d been playing, and wasn’t this all probably just some sick, twisted game he had no business getting himself tied up with playing. Harry was done with games. He was done with all the pettiness and the silliness. He had so many other things, so many bigger things that needed his attention.

‘Did you really think,’ Harry asked, ‘that I would just come down here and watch whatever the hell that was you were doing and that I’d want any part of it?’

‘ _You do it for everyone else!_ ’ Malfoy thundered.

A thick, uncomfortable silence fell over the room, as Harry dropped into the chair anyway. All he could hear was the crackling of the fire and Malfoy’s heavy breathing.

‘I don’t understand?’ It came out as a question, after such a long moment, but Harry didn’t care because he wanted the answer anyway.

‘You...I see you, Potter. Everyday, I see you. You do it for everyone else in this entire fucking castle.’ Malfoy’s tone was soft again, despite the vehemence of his words, and he kept his eyes on the floor. ‘You look them in the eyes, you take them by the hands, you kiss them, you fuck them, you help them, you hold them, you…’

And Harry knew, with stunning clarity, what Malfoy meant. What Malfoy meant and what he wanted. ‘Oh,’ he breathed.

Then, Malfoy dropped to his knees, dropped his hands to the floor, and crawled the small space between them to rest, just as he had with Jack in the chair, at Harry’s feet. Harry raised his hand and looked at it for a moment, just a moment to really, really look at it. His nail-beds were a mess, and he had calluses and scars, and his hands would never, ever be beautiful, he realised. His hands would never be beautiful, but they were workable hands, serviceable hands that did so much and were capable of so much more. ‘I need you,’ Malfoy said, and Harry looked down at him.

He slid his hand into the pale strands of Malfoy’s hair. ‘I’m not going to…’ Harry trailed off, swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, and tried again. ‘I can’t do what you want me to do. Not...not yet, anyway. Because you have to...Malfoy, you have to _mean_ it.’

Malfoy’s eyes fluttered closed as Harry gently raked his fingertips over Malfoy’s scalp. ‘But you think you could?’ he asked, more a breath than a question.

Harry nodded.

Malfoy must have felt it somehow because he sighed again and leaned into Harry’s touch as he said, ‘Thank you.’


	2. Chapter Two: The second time, Malfoy surprised him.

**Chapter Two:** _The second time, Malfoy surprised him._

Ron leaned heavily into Harry’s side, his arm a dead-weight on Harry’s shoulder, breathless with laughter. ‘D’you know, I really thought she wasn’t gonna say yes,’ he slurred, not for the first time that evening.

The words sent the spark of warmth in Harry’s chest to blazing again, and he grinned at his best friend. ‘But she did,’ he answered.

‘She did, she did,’ Ron repeated. ‘How did I get so lucky?’

‘That wasn’t luck, mate,’ Harry replied. ‘That was love.’

Ron fell silent again for a few moments, allowing himself to be dragged unceremoniously towards the public Floo down the alley instead of the private Floo at the back of the pub. A little fresh air would do Ron good before a dizzying trip through the network. But then, he stopped abruptly, nearly causing Harry to trip over him. He turned to Harry, blindly groped for his shoulders and leaned in close enough that Harry went a bit cross-eyed, as he said, ‘I’m real sorry that you and Gin didn’t make it, Harry. I know you-- I know you loved her loads, and I’m real sorry that she didn’t love you back loads.’

Harry wanted to smile at Ron’s declaration, wanted to laugh a little at the serious tone and the gravity, because Ron was dead wrong about what had happened between Harry and Ginny, but it was still a bit too fresh an ending to find it funny just yet. Their fairy-tale had been abruptly cut short when they realised that although they did love each other very much, they were better suited as friends than anything else. The passion, the attraction that they had once felt had withered, and they hadn’t put any effort into trying to get it back.

‘Come on, mate,’ Harry then said, forcing a smile and throwing his arm back around Ron’s neck, ‘let’s get you back home. Hermione’ll hand me my arse on a platter if I don’t.’

‘Hermione,’ Ron breathed happily. ‘My fiancee. Fuck, mate, I really didn’t think she was going to say yes.’

Harry’s smile became genuine once again. ‘But she did,’ he repeated, before grabbing a pinch of Floo powder, stepping into the fireplace with Ron wrapped tightly against him, and clearly calling out ‘Roonil Wazlib’s Flat!’

The Floo deposited them unceremoniously into their shared living room moments later, and Ron immediately made a hasty run to the toilets. Harry thought about following him in there to make sure he was all right, but threw himself instead onto their tatty couch and leaned his head against the back with a sigh.

A sudden loud tapping at the window drew him out of a doze he hadn’t realised he’d fallen into. Harry quickly got up to let the owl in, wondering who on earth would be sending him a note at this time of night. ‘Thanks, girl,’ he said, absently scratching the barn owl’s head as he took the note from her leg.

It was a napkin from the Crown & Cauldron, and Harry might have dismissed it as someone’s Floo address, which seemed to happen more often than not now that his break-up with Ginny had made the _Prophet_ , but when he flipped it over to read, his breath caught in his throat as a sudden fear gripped him.

_I need you. -- DM_

He’d seen Malfoy with his friends in the far corner of the pub, laughing and joking around with one another; had seen Jack Sloper with his arm around Malfoy’s neck dragging him in for kiss after kiss; had seen the less than pleasant looks they’d been receiving from some of the other patrons, though Harry had no idea if it was because it was two men kissing or because it was _Draco Malfoy_ kissing and laughing and having a good time. But whatever it was, Harry had swiftly assumed the absolute worst.

‘Ron, I’ll be back!’ Harry shouted, as he lunged for the Floo and called out the pub’s destination for the second time that night.

Harry dodged through a group of what appeared to be recent Hogwarts alumni who giggled and pointed and tried to hang onto him and buy him a pint or two and pushed his way through the pub and out into the back alley again. Immediately, he spotted the flash of pale blond hair that caught the streetlamp-light. Harry took off at a run.

Malfoy was on the ground, and two men stood over him. ‘Death Eater scum!’ shouted the larger of the two, as he aimed a kick to Malfoy’s ribs.

Malfoy coughed and spat out what Harry dearly hoped wasn’t blood. His own blood pounded in his ears, as he quickly raised his wand and cast a powerful blasting curse that knocked Malfoy’s attacker on his arse. The other assailant backed quickly away as well and dropped into a crouch at his friend’s side.

Harry threw himself between Malfoy and the other two men, drew himself to a height and said, in his most authoritative tone, ‘What the hell is going on here?’

‘Bloody fucking tosser!’ shouted the larger again. He tried to get to his feet, but Harry stepped forward again and he sat back down heavily on the ground. ‘Hiding behind your bloody, you-- you, fuck!’

‘I’m an Auror, and if I don’t get an answer very soon, I’m hauling the lot of you down to the Ministry,’ Harry said seriously. That he wasn’t quite an Auror just yet didn’t matter. He at the very least had the authority to break up a bar-fight.

‘Jem, careful!’ hissed the second man. ‘That’s ‘arry Potter…’

Jem’s eyes widened, and he slowly held his hands up to show he wasn’t armed. The pair of them levered themselves up together, and behind him, Harry felt Malfoy crawl closer and press a hand to Harry’s ankle.

‘What happened here?’

Jem glanced at his friend, and his friend said, ‘Malfoy started it. ‘e followed us out ‘ere and started saying all kind of mess about You-Know-Who and whatnot.’

Harry turned his head and looked down. Malfoy’s eyes glittered with drunken mischief, and it wasn’t hard at all for Harry to believe the two blokes. ‘He was just running his mouth,’ Harry said, turning back to them. ‘Just trying to get under your skin. Be the bigger person.’

‘Easy for you to say, innit?’ said Jem. He squinted at Harry and took a step forward, and though he clearly knew attacking an Auror would only land him in the Ministry’s holding cells overnight, Harry palmed his wand again and prepared for the attack anyway.

‘Oi, leave off, Jem,’ said the other nervously, reaching out a hand to pull his friend back. ‘Let’s just…let’s just go back in, ‘nother round, yeah?’

Jem glared, first at his friend, then at Malfoy, and finally at Harry. ‘Fine,’ he spat. He whirled around and stalked back toward the pub’s entrance.

‘Didn’t mean no ‘arm,’ the other said, drawing Harry’s attention. ‘Jem just, ya know, ‘e lost…’ He trailed off with a shrug and then turned to follow Jem back into the pub. He didn’t need to finish his sentence for Harry to know how the fight had really begun.

When they were alone again, Harry turned back to Malfoy. Concern and anger warred within him, as Malfoy pushed himself up the brick wall and leaned heavily against it. ‘You’re a fucking idiot. And you’re pissed,’ he finally said.

‘Well-bloody-spotted,’ Malfoy answered, grinning madly. ‘No wonder at all how you ended up an Auror with detecting skills like those.’

Harry bit back the urge to snap a comment at Malfoy in return, wondering if he’d ever get to a point in his life when Malfoy didn’t make the blood boil in his veins. He’d thought he’d lost that automatic reaction years ago when a terrified Malfoy had clutched desperately at Harry’s hand in an effort to be saved from the flames. And though it had flared every once and awhile since then, Harry really thought that he was over his animosity towards his former nemesis. He felt something else for Malfoy now. Yet, there it was, just like always, the familiar rising tide of annoyance and bitterness that Malfoy’s disdainful tone and childish insults elicited in him.

He took a breath instead and took another step towards Malfoy, listing downward as he was against the brick wall. ‘You sent me this,’ Harry said, as he fished the napkin from his pocket. ‘You sent me this before you came out here. Had to have done. So you…you knew what you were going to do when you got out here. You planned this, didn’t you?’

How Malfoy managed his posh drawl when he was so clearly and deeply into his cups, Harry would never know. But Malfoy levered himself up the wall until he was at his height again and gave an elegant shrug before saying, ‘Why on earth would I _plan_ to have a pair of Mudbloods fight me?’

‘Don’t use that word,’ Harry warned.

Malfoy smirked at him. ‘What word? _Mudblood?_ ’ Malfoy sang the last, dragging it out and flattening it until it became a hum in the back of his throat. ‘But it’s such a brilliant word…so very fitting too. Dirty, filthy blood. The kind of blood that roughs you up instead of using magic like civilised people. _Mudblood_.’

He spat it so sharply that Harry almost felt it like an actual slap across the face. He moved without thinking, crowding Malfoy against the wall. Harry trapped Malfoy’s wrists above his head and leaned in until they were nose to nose. He could see Malfoy’s drink-glassy eyes widen and his pupils dilate, not with fear, but with something darker, something more insidious. Desirous, even. ‘I said, _don’t use that word_ ,’ Harry repeated, in a low tone.

‘All right, I won’t,’ Malfoy breathed against Harry’s mouth.

Harry inhaled the stench of stale whisky and drew back quickly. He took a long moment to collect himself and then said, ‘Are you badly hurt?’

Malfoy scoffed. ‘He only got in a couple good blows before you arrived. Wouldn’t have done if you’d been a bit faster.’ Harry’s eyes narrowed, but Malfoy only smiled at him and continued, ‘I’m disappointed actually. Thought you were better than that.’

‘I didn’t have to come,’ Harry protested.

‘No, but you did anyway.’ Malfoy leaned forward a bit again, and his lips nearly grazed Harry’s once more as he spoke. ‘I was in trouble, and you came.’

‘You wouldn’t have been in trouble if--’

‘--don’t diminish it,’ Malfoy interrupted him. ‘I was in trouble, and you came.’

‘Malfoy, this isn’t…’ Harry trailed off, uncertain, and put more distance between them again. Malfoy’s gaze was suddenly heavy on his own; Harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders, so he rolled them back slowly twice, trying to ease the imagined tension. He looked away and tried again, saying, ‘This isn’t the way to do this. You’re…you’re going about it all wrong.’

‘The way to do what?’ Malfoy challenged, even though he knew. Of course he knew.

‘Don’t play dumb. I know you’re cleverer than that, even when you’re pissed,’ Harry said.

‘M’not that pissed.’

Harry exhaled a long, slow breath and shook his head. ‘Yes, you are. Come on, we should get you home.’

‘You want to take me _home_ , Potty?’ Malfoy asked, looking at Harry curiously, while that infuriating smirk still played at his lips.

Heat spread through Harry then, though not in anger. It curled in his belly and ran like molten lava through his veins. He thought about how it felt to run his fingers through Malfoy’s hair, to have him so close, to be teased and then to have it taken away because it wasn’t his to have. The current of envy sparked in Harry’s chest again. ‘Let’s get you home,’ he repeated instead, more firmly. He lowered the hand that had involuntarily reached for Malfoy’s chin.

Malfoy eyed him more pointedly than Harry would have thought possible, considering how drunk he was. Then he chuckled, waving away the tension with a swipe of his hand. ‘You didn’t answer me though. The way to do what?’

‘Just forget it, Malfoy, come along,’ Harry entreated. He reached for Malfoy again with intent, but Malfoy ducked out of his grip. ‘Seriously, I am taking you home right now. You’re rat-arsed, and you need to go home.’

‘The way to do whaaaaaaaat?’ Malfoy sang.

‘The way to get my bloody attention, Malfoy!’ Harry snapped, suddenly annoyed and so, so exhausted with Malfoy’s stupid game.

Malfoy didn’t answer at first, and Harry almost regretted losing his temper. Malfoy was drunk, beyond drunk even and he was clearly in pain as well, and Harry understood more than anyone perhaps what that kind of pain felt like. Physical pain, certainly, but he knew it was more than that for Malfoy. Malfoy was far too smart and far too self-preserving to let himself get into a fight with a pair of blokes much bigger than he was unawares.

Then, Malfoy tilted his head as a slow smile spread across his face. ‘So show me the right way,’ he said, reaching out to gather the front of Harry’s robes in his fist. He tugged Harry close again until he was a hair’s breadth away. ‘What’s the right way?’

‘I...er…’ Harry trailed off, as he watched Malfoy’s mouth part, watched him drag his tongue slowly along the underside of his even upper teeth. He could...he could lean in. He could taste, if he wanted to taste. He shouldn’t, but he could.

‘Draco?’ came the sudden forgotten, but familiar voice from up the alley. 

Harry stumbled back a step and watched as Malfoy’s hands dropped to his sides. He turned toward the voice and saw Jack break into a jog to get down the length of alley to where they stood. His mouth fell open to speak, feeling caught out, feeling awkward and uncertain suddenly even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

But Jack went right past him and came to stand in front of Malfoy. His hands fluttered at Malfoy’s upper arms and then up further, fussing, until they came to rest on Malfoy’s cheeks. ‘Turned around for two bloody minutes, and I lost you,’ he said.

The genuine concern in his tone surprised Harry, who then immediately felt ashamed for being surprised at all. Jack was a good bloke, and as much as Harry felt an unexplainable and intense sense of distrust when it came to the man, it didn’t change the fact that Jack cared about Malfoy’s well-being. Just like he did, he supposed.

‘Fuck off, Sloper,’ Malfoy slurred, as his eyes fell closed and he slumped forward into Jack’s arms. ‘Potter’s got me, haven’t you, Potty?’

Jack turned his head and offered an apologetic smile, as he gathered Malfoy closer and prepared to Disapparate. ‘Thanks for keeping an eye on him, Harry, but I’ve got it from here,’ he said.

‘Anytime,’ Harry answered softly.

‘D’you mean that, Potter?’ Malfoy asked.

But they disappeared with a loud crack before Harry realised and could say that he did mean it, very much.


	3. Chapter Three: The third time, Malfoy distracted him.

**Chapter Three:** _The third time, Malfoy distracted him._

Harry wasn’t allowed to use the Cloak, but it would have been impractical here anyway. Too many bodies, and too many chances that the Cloak would slip if someone stepped on it. He felt vulnerable without it, though, which also made him feel odd. It was so easy to be stealthy when he was completely unseen. He wondered if it was because of all the lies that his cover required tonight.

He could see Savage across the dance floor, her false red hair looking almost purple in the flickering lights, and he took a breath in and out, remembering that she was there for him if anything went awry. He didn’t anticipate it, though. It was a fairly straight-forward mission: infiltrate the club, discover the identity of the potions dealer and arrest him or her. It was a mission befitting a probationary Auror like himself, and he was confident that he could complete it successfully.

‘Two shots of Ogden’s, if you would,’ the posh drawl came from beside Harry at the bar. He’d have recognised it anywhere in the world.

Harry turned and there, of course, Malfoy was, looking-- ‘Fuck me,’ Harry breathed.

Malfoy turned to him and his lips curved into a sensual smirk. ‘Mmm, you’re not quite my type, but I’m awfully flattered,’ he said. His eyes raked up and down Harry’s Glamour-altered face and settled on his lips. ‘Although, I suppose exceptions can be made…’

‘Who’s that second one for?’ Harry asked, when the bartender placed the two shots in front of Malfoy.

‘Not a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Malfoy answered.

Harry flushed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Of course you didn’t.’ Malfoy leaned a bit closer and nudged the shot towards Harry. ‘It’s yours,’ he whispered in Harry’s ear, before pulling back and picking up one of the shots. He downed it easily, and Harry had done the same before he even noticed and realised he probably shouldn’t have been drinking on the job.

‘Cheers,’ Harry said, after the firewhisky had burned its way down his throat.

Malfoy nodded slowly, his smirk spreading his lips again. ‘Come find me later,’ he then said, before he turned and headed back out into the fray. The slim cut of his burgundy-coloured robes pulled them taut against his arse, as he suddenly bent forward and curved back up head-first in a drawn-out body roll. He tossed a look back at Harry, but was blocked when another wizard came up behind him, grasped him by the hips and tugged him back against his crotch in a slow grind.

The shot glass shattered in Harry’s hand. ‘Fuck!’ he hissed and clutched at his injured hand.

‘Ah, bloody hell,’ the bartender said. She flicked a quick set of spells at him that cleaned up the glass and blood and then passed him a small vial. ‘It’s dittany essence so it won’t scar. You’ll be all right, promise. You’d be surprised how often this sort of things happens ‘round here.’

‘Thanks,’ Harry muttered, trying to ignore the flood of embarrassment he felt. He hadn’t lost control of his magic in years, and apparently all it took was seeing Malfoy getting all close with someone that wasn’t-- and they weren’t even anything, Malfoy just… sometimes Malfoy needed-- 

‘Oi, easy there. That’s a powerful scowl you’ve got.’ A girl with long dark hair came up against Harry’s side with an easy smile. She put her hand on his arm. ‘Let’s make him jealous,’ she said, as she tugged Harry towards the dance floor.

‘Wait, I...what?’ His eyes were fixed on the show Malfoy was putting on. Malfoy was pressed closer than Harry thought possible, lips parted and eyes closed, and the other wizard had one hand slipped into the gap at the front of Malfoy’s robes, clearly working at the flies of his trousers.

The girl leaned close, her lips right against Harry’s ear to be heard over the pounding music. ‘It’s all over your face, love. So let’s make him eat his heart out.’ She then whirled around and bent over just like Malfoy had, rolling her body up and grinding against Harry.

Harry’s hands fell to her hips automatically, but he couldn’t draw his gaze away from Malfoy. It was fucking obscene, the way Malfoy rolled himself against the other man, the way those stupid, anonymous hands found what they wanted and were obviously working Malfoy hard. Malfoy’s hips twitched and stuttered, shaking him out of rhythm with the song, and Harry wanted to-- fuck, he wanted to--

‘Do you party?’ the girl was asking him and pressing something into his hand, but Harry barely heard and whatever it was fell to the ground. The music was so loud, and his blood was thundering in his ears, pulse thudding and heart hammering against his ribs. It hurt, fuck, it hurt so much and he had no idea why.

He was supposed to be doing something. He was supposed to be doing something that wasn’t this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t turning away from this gorgeous girl to whirl on Malfoy and his stupid, whoever the fuck he was. It wasn’t Sloper, that much Harry knew. It wasn’t anyone that Harry knew, and that rankled at him because Malfoy didn’t need some random stranger having him off in the middle of the fucking dance floor in a seedy club down Knockturn-- Malfoy needed something else.

Harry wrenched Malfoy away and into his arms. Malfoy’s eyes opened wide from the sudden shock, and Harry could see that what little of the grey that hadn’t been swallowed by blown-out pupil was alarmingly dull. But then they fell heavy-lidded again in recognition. ‘I suppose it is _later_ ,’ he murmured, barely audible over all the noise.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Harry asked, as Malfoy slid his hands around Harry’s waist and dipped below the waistband of his trousers.

‘Don’t you want to play?’

‘Not that. Malfoy, are you high--’

‘--fuck you!’ Malfoy’s dance partner shoved between him and Malfoy, throwing out his chest. ‘Think you can just step in and steal my toy, do you?’

‘Your _what_?’ Harry stepped up, and the other crowded closer as well until they were chest to chest. ‘Say that again,’ Harry threatened.

‘My _toy_ ,’ the man spat.

Malfoy laughed brightly, and Harry’s attention was immediately drawn there. ‘You could hardly afford a toy like me,’ he said, batting his eyelashes with exaggeration. ‘I’m too expensive for you.’

‘Quiet, Malfoy,’ Harry urged.

The man reached out and grasped Malfoy by the wrist. ‘You really want to start a fight, little man?’ he asked, eyes fixed on Harry. ‘Over this?’ He tugged Malfoy to his side, and Malfoy only laughed.

‘No one’s trying to fight here,’ Harry said, as calmly as he could manage against the raging tide that was threatening to overflow inside him. His hand shook, and he could feel his magic crackling and spitting, wanting to lash out. But that was ridiculous, it was so ridiculous, because he was a grown wizard, an Auror-in-training, a man who had proven over and again that he had control over his emotions and his power. Certainly when he was young and his emotions had got the better of him, he had lost control, but that was all supposed to be over now. He was supposed to have evened out.

But it was Malfoy. Malfoy was in danger, and Harry felt it deeply.

‘I don’t want to dance anymore,’ Malfoy said suddenly.

‘What a little fuckin’ tease.’

‘Wasn’t even that good,’ Malfoy replied, laughing brightly.

‘What did you fucking--’

Harry caught the wizard’s hand mid-swing. ‘You’re going to wish you never even _looked_ at him,’ he ground out, pulling the man’s hand behind his back.

But before Harry could demonstrate why, Malfoy sunk down to his knees and braced a hand on his head. He said something, but Harry couldn’t hear it over the music and the sudden rush of panic.

‘Did you give him something?’ Harry yelled back at the other man, who raised his hands in surrender and quickly turned to melt back into the crowded dance floor. He bumped into someone without so much as a ‘pardon me’ and was gone before Harry could even think to get his name.

‘Potter, why’m I on the ground?’

Harry turned immediately back to Malfoy and cradled his face in his hands. ‘Are you all right? Look at me, I need to see your--’

‘--c’mon Harry, let’s get him to some fresh air.’ Savage had appeared at Harry’s side. She helped him to get Malfoy back on his feet, and together they fought their way through the crowd and back outside.

A field medi-witch was already waiting for them, and she led Malfoy off to do an examination, while Savage took a few steps away to send a Patronus message to headquarters. Another pair of Aurors were stood on the doors to keep anyone else from entering the club, and Harry winced when he realised just exactly how epically he’d bollocksed up the exercise. It meant another two months of simulations in the crime lab, another two months of having to essentially sit idly by, until he got another chance to prove himself ready for field missions.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it; he knew that he could, and he also knew that his superiors and colleagues knew it too, but this was supposed to be his chance to show them all that he was smart and capable and resilient and resourceful, instead of just some kid who’d got lucky several times over. And he’d lost that chance. It didn’t matter that he’d have another in two months time. He’d cocked it all up because of--

‘Fuck.’ Harry pulled a hand through his hair and tugged hard. He turned away from watching the medi-witch moving her finger back and forth before Malfoy’s eyes to see Savage returning to him.

‘All right, now seriously, the hell, Potter?’ she asked, pulling him off to the side. Her face was flushed from the heat of the club, and she was bleeding from a small cut across her cheek Harry wasn’t sure how she’d gotten. Yet another reminder that he’d allowed himself to ignore the real mission.

Harry winced and raised his wand quickly to seal the cut with a spell. ‘Fuck, I’m so sorry, Addie. I don’t know what came over me,’ he said. The lie irked him, though, and he frowned.

From the look on her face, Savage clearly didn’t believe him either. ‘Right, well, you’re bloody lucky this was just an exercise!’

‘I know, I know, really, I’m so sorry. It’ll never happen again.’

‘Too right, it won’t,’ Savage replied. Her expression softened after a moment, and she reached up to feel where the cut had been healed. ‘Look, I understand how hard it can be, especially for someone like you, during these things when real trouble pops up, but you’re not certified for the field yet, and you can’t go banging off without back-up, no matter how many civilians are in distress, understood?’

‘Of course,’ Harry hurriedly answered. ‘I promise, it’ll absolutely never happen again.’ And yet it was a promise that Harry wasn’t at all certain he could keep.

Savage rolled her eyes. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’ She laughed then and swung her arm over Harry’s shoulders. ‘D’you know you were actually dancing with the dealer? The girl? She’s the actress the department hired.’

Harry wished he could say that he knew. He supposed that if he’d been paying closer attention, it would have been obvious, but he’d been so focussed on Malfoy, and that was a very serious problem he was going to need to concern himself with very, very soon.

Not tonight, though.

‘Go on, I know you want to make sure that bloke’s okay,’ Savage continued and nodded in Malfoy’s direction. ‘Get his statement, and we’ll see if we need to do anything further.’

Not needing any further encouragement, Harry crossed the small distance to where Malfoy was seated on a bench just down from the club’s entrance. The field medi-witch gave Harry a significant look as he passed her, but he knew what she would tell him. He’d seen it himself after all.

‘What did you take?’ he asked, cutting straight to it, as he knelt down before Malfoy.

Malfoy laughed at him. ‘For Merlin’s sake, Potter, it was just a bit of pixie dust. You’d think I murdered someone or something the way you’re all acting.’

Harry sighed. ‘You shouldn’t mix though, Malfoy, and I think you know that already.’

‘Take that Glamour off,’ Malfoy said, ignoring the admonishment easily. ‘I want to see you.’

Harry’d quite forgotten that he’d been wearing it and, after a second to fish out his wand from his pocket, removed the spell that altered his features.

‘Mmm, much better,’ Malfoy murmured. He lifted a hand and traced along Harry’s brow and down his nose.

‘How’d you know it was me?’ Harry asked, in a low voice.

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Sometimes I think I’d know you anywhere, Potter,’ he said.

The unexpected flutter in Harry’s chest threw him a bit, and despite the worry and the anger he was feeling about everything that had happened tonight, he had to smile. He wasn’t sure why he was so damn pleased that Malfoy saw through his disguise, but it felt important. It felt like long ago. It felt like staring, terrified but resolved, into Malfoy’s eyes as Malfoy warred with himself about whether or not to reveal that it was him the Snatchers had caught. And so he gathered Malfoy in his arms when Malfoy slumped forward to rest his forehead on Harry’s shoulder and held him tight.

‘I think I should get you home. You need to sleep it off.’

Malfoy looked up again. ‘Take me home with you,’ he said.

Harry sighed. ‘Not tonight. Maybe some...maybe some other night.’

‘Please,’ Malfoy whispered. He leaned in close and continued against Harry’s lips, ‘I need you.’

He should have pulled away. He wanted to, knew it wasn’t right, knew that Malfoy was all kinds of fucked up and would probably be so angry with him in the morning or angry with himself, and Harry would be angry with himself too, but he just wanted-- he just needed--

Malfoy tasted a little like whisky, but also a little sweet, a little forbidden possibly, and a whole lot like something that Harry hadn’t even realised he’d wanted for so, so long. His lips parted and Malfoy slipped his tongue into Harry’s mouth, laving and twisting it sensually against Harry’s own. He whimpered and tried to get closer, but Harry finally, finally pulled back, just enough to speak, enough to remind himself what was really needed now. Not what he wanted, but what Malfoy needed.

‘I’m going to take you home now.’

‘Okay,’ Malfoy said. He turned his head a little to tuck it into Harry’s neck, and one hand trailed up to tangle in the hair at the back of Harry’s neck.

Harry took a deep, cleansing breath, helped Malfoy to stand and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.


	4. Chapter Four: The fourth time, Malfoy used him.

**Chapter Four:** _The fourth time, Malfoy used him. ___

__Hermione was in that fun, fuzzy place where everything was hilarious and nothing hurt. Harry could tell because she kept giggling at the way Ron’s hand kept slipping below the table instead of reprimanding him since they were in public and anyone could see. Not that it mattered, of course, if people could see. Ron and Hermione were wholly, stupidly in love with each other-- they were going to be married soon, and if they wanted to get a little frisky in public, they had absolutely every right to do so, somewhat famous celebrities or not._ _

__Harry smiled around the straw in his drink, as Hermione finally slapped at Ron’s hand even as she turned her head to be kissed. ‘You two are making me gag,’ he teased._ _

__‘Bugger off then,’ Ron replied, before planting an obnoxious, wet kiss on Hermione’s cheek._ _

__‘Ronald!’ she scolded, giggling madly again._ _

__Merlin, how Harry loved them both. ‘I’m going to get another round,’ he said. ‘Try not to get a room or anything before I get back.’_ _

__‘No promises…’ Ron waggled his eyebrows at Harry, eliciting an indignant squeal from Hermione._ _

__‘Oh no, wait, Harry, we’re supposed to be celebrating you! Let me get the next round.’_ _

__Harry laughed as he pushed himself up from his seat. ‘And here I’d thought you’d forgotten,’ he called over his shoulder._ _

__He’d passed the field trials on his second go-round with flying colours, just as he’d known he could. Savage had been thrilled with him, eager to have him on as her partner for real instead of just in practise. The whole Department, really, had been happy, partially, Harry thought, because of the PR boon he was, but mostly because it meant that Harry Potter was no longer just a name and a story to them. He was a valuable asset. Harry was just pleased to be useful._ _

__He stepped up to the bar and raised a hand. Hannah was down at the other end pouring two pints for a burly-looking wizard, and Tom was signing out a room key to--_ _

__‘Malfoy?’ Harry called._ _

__Malfoy turned, and his lips quirked up in a smile so quick that Harry might not even have seen had he not been focussed before flattening into his normal bemusement. He pocketed the key and walked down the space between them. ‘Potter. Congratulations on your good news.’_ _

__‘And to you,’ Harry said. ‘It’s not an easy programme to gain admittance to.’_ _

__‘Especially not when your surname carries the connotation that mine does,’ Malfoy replied smartly._ _

__‘Yes, well…’ Harry trailed off. Malfoy wasn’t wrong, of course, and it had been something of a shock when Malfoy had turned up at Auror training open enrollment at all, let alone that he’d been admitted, but Harry had mostly been pleased to see that the Department didn’t hold grudges. ‘Either way, I’m happy for you. I’m sure you’ll do well.’_ _

__‘Do _well_?’ Malfoy leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of Harry’s ear. ‘I intend to blow them all out of the water.’_ _

__Harry swallowed hard, and when Malfoy pulled back enough to look at him, he said, ‘I’d expect nothing less.’ Malfoy’s gaze sharpened, and he bit down on his lower lip, but it wasn’t enough to quell the smile that came again to his lips. Harry matched it with one of his own. ‘What’s the key for?’_ _

__‘Oh, room 1202? Well,’ Malfoy began enigmatically, ‘one never knows when one might be in need of shelter.’ He stepped back, gave Harry a pointed once-over and then started off toward the table of new cadets in the corner._ _

__Harry wanted to follow, but he knew better than that. It was all part of Malfoy’s game. So he ordered another set of drinks for himself, Hermione and Ron and returned to the table to enjoy them, pretending all the while that his gaze wasn’t drawn to Malfoy’s table every few moments like a moth to the flame._ _

__He watched too, twenty minutes later, when Malfoy rose from the table and started towards the hallway that led up to the rooms for rent. Harry took a deep breath in and out, noticed his hands were shaking and gripped his pint glass in the hopes that his friends wouldn’t notice._ _

__‘You all right, mate?’ Ron asked._ _

__‘Yeah, I…’ Harry turned and glanced up toward the rooms again. ‘I think I need some air. Give me a minute, yeah?’_ _

__‘Of course, Harry,’ Hermione replied. He didn’t miss the amused look that passed between her and Ron. ‘We were actually thinking of heading home. Meet you there?’_ _

__Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. ‘Yeah, all right. See you at home.’ He got up from the table and made his way down the hallway towards the rooms as casually as he could manage, even as his heart pounded in his chest with anticipation._ _

__They hadn’t yet; Harry’d wanted to, Malfoy’d more than wanted to, but they hadn’t yet. Every time it might have happened, something had gone wrong. The timing hadn’t been right. They’d missed their moment. Whatever it was, though, Harry no longer cared. It was time. Fuck, how he wanted it--_ _

__‘What the fuck?’ Harry was roughly shoved up against the wall, and a bloke immediately pressed in close, grasping Harry by the hips and rubbing his face against Harry’s neck. His beard caught rough against Harry’s skin._ _

__‘Fuck, you couldn’t wait, could you? Merlin, you look so fucking fit,’ he murmured against Harry, dragging his lips along sensitive skin._ _

__‘Get the fuck off me,’ Harry spat, shoving back out until the man had to step back._ _

__‘Draco?’ he questioned._ _

__‘What? No...what?’ Harry shook his head vehemently._ _

__The look on the man’s face would have been comical if Harry hadn’t been so confused. ‘Oh, oh shit, you’re-- oh bugger, fuck, I’m so-- so sorry,’ he stammered._ _

__‘Get the hell out of here,’ Harry ordered and then swept past him down the hallway to the room that Malfoy had indicated before. He took a breath to centre himself before he quietly opened the door and saw only himself--_ _

__Harry should have been furious. His stomach should have lurched with indignation and upset, his eyes should have widened in surprise and displeasure, and his heart should have raced as the need to punch Malfoy’s ridiculous face settled heavily over him like a familiar blanket. Part of Harry even wanted to be furious, wanted to give over into the blinding and often cathartic sensation of the kind of anger that burned hot and fierce and left nothing in its wake._ _

__But he didn’t and he couldn’t. As he watched himself glide hands down his torso and through the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his trousers, as he watched himself bring a finger to his lips, wet it and bring it back down to circle around a dark brown nipple, as he watched himself stare in the mirror enraptured by the rising flush on his cheeks and the growing arousal without even a hand directly on himself, Harry felt only desire. Not for the face and body that Malfoy wore, but for the very idea that Malfoy could want something so much, he’d stoop to stealing it. Harry felt only the mad urge to rush across the room and give Malfoy the real thing._ _

__‘You’d better hurry up. You know this only lasts an hour--’ Malfoy cut himself off when he looked up in the mirror to see Harry standing behind him._ _

__‘This is so fucked up,’ Harry said quietly, taking a step forward into the room. ‘This is so, so seriously beyond fucked up, Malfoy.’_ _

__Malfoy looked at him, false green eyes widening and then narrowing again as he considered. ‘You don’t sound angry though. Why aren’t you...why aren’t you angry?’_ _

__Harry wished he knew. ‘Were you just going to let some stranger fuck me?’ he asked instead of answering. He advanced further into the room, and Malfoy stepped forward to meet him. ‘Were you going to bend over and let some random stranger you barely even know fuck you while you were pretending to be me? Is that the kind of sick, twisted shit that you get up to?’_ _

__‘No,’ Malfoy said evenly. ‘I was going to fuck him.’_ _

__‘Why do you keep doing this?’ Harry reached for Malfoy and pulled him close, Malfoy letting out a gasp. Harry’s hands came around to rest on Malfoy’s arse, and just how weird, how fucked up was it that even though Malfoy looked exactly like him down to the scars that littered his torso, Harry still wanted him. Harry still wanted to fuck Malfoy, still wanted to feel what it was like to be that close to someone, to be that wrapped up in another person that they might as well have been only one._ _

__Malfoy dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder, and Harry drew a hand up and pressed against the dark strands. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,’ he murmured over and over again, until Harry tugged his head back. ‘Will you do it now?’_ _

__‘What do you want me to--’_ _

__‘Will you?’ Malfoy asked again. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and a flush bloomed across it, the same dusky red that Harry always got. ‘You said you would once. Will you now? Please. You said you would.’_ _

__Harry frowned. He knew what Malfoy wanted, of course he did, and yes, he had said that he would once, long ago, ages ago even now. They were just kids then, finishing school and playing at something bigger than themselves. They were grown now, they were adults, but maybe they were still just playing. Maybe they would always just be playing until the moment they couldn’t anymore._ _

__‘Will that be enough for you?’ Harry asked, as he drew his wand._ _

__‘I don’t know,’ Malfoy answered honestly. ‘But I need you.’_ _

__Harry took a breath and said, ‘ _Imperio_.’_ _

__Malfoy blinked slowly and then, as the spell settled over him, all trace of it disappeared. Harry only knew it was working because he could feel the pull, the power he had over Malfoy’s body and mind. He could make Malfoy, this Malfoy who was wearing Harry’s own skin, make him do whatever he wanted him to do._ _

__‘I...I can’t do this, I’m sorry,’ Harry said, pulling back and releasing the spell. He turned away and dropped his wand to the ground._ _

__‘Potter?’ Malfoy blinked a few times and looked at Harry in first confusion, and then suspicion. ‘Why did you--’_ _

__‘--I don’t want it to be like this when we--’_ _

__‘--no, it’s fine. Fuck, fuck, you’re right, it’s fine. This was...this was stupid.’ Shame coloured Malfoy’s cheeks a dark red, and he closed his eyes. ‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ he muttered, almost too quietly for Harry to understand him. Malfoy walked over and took a seat on the edge of the bed, then dropped his face into his hands._ _

__Harry followed after a moment, took a seat next to Malfoy and held out his hand until Malfoy took it. It was strange, holding hands with himself in a way, and Harry let his thumb trace along Malfoy’s, finding the tiny scar Harry had from when he’d accidentally sliced himself during a training exercise a few weeks ago._ _

__‘Malfoy,’ he said softly._ _

__Malfoy turned and looked at him, his eyes jade-bright and sparkling in the low firelight of the room. Is that what he looked like when he wanted something? So...alive. So vibrant and needy._ _

__‘Potter…’_ _

__‘Lie down,’ Harry said, firming his voice like a command._ _

__‘Potter, I--’_ _

__‘Lie down, Malfoy.’_ _

__Malfoy took a shaky breath in and let it out in a rush as realisation came over him. ‘Thank you,’ he said. He scooted back, laid his head on the pillow and waited expectantly for Harry’s next command._ _

__Harry crawled up between his legs until his face hovered over Malfoy’s own, his lips close enough to reach down and capture and not let go. He slid a hand between them and worked at the fastenings on Malfoy’s trousers, worked them down Malfoy’s hips and pulled his cock out. He knew it well, of course, knew best how to work it to hardness, knew what kind of pressure, when to slow down, when to speed up, how to twist his wrist. He knew so very well what he needed._ _

__He knew what Malfoy needed too._ _

__‘Close your eyes,’ Harry whispered against Malfoy’s lips. Malfoy tried to lean up to kiss him, but Harry pulled back. ‘Just feel me now.’_ _

__‘Potter--’_ _

__‘--shhh,’ Harry interrupted, placing a finger against Malfoy’s lips as he stroked Malfoy’s cock slowly with the other hand. ‘Just feel me. I just want you to feel me.’_ _

__Harry pulled back then, removed Malfoy’s trousers entirely and came to sit between Malfoy’s legs. It should have been odder, staring at himself laid out and flushed, ready, so ready to be touched, to be fucked, to be had. It should have been off-putting and strange. But as Malfoy breathed in and out, as his hands twitched at his sides wanting to reach up and take hold, as he struggled to keep Harry’s command, Harry felt only right._ _

__‘You’re doing so well,’ Harry said, as he took Malfoy’s cock in hand again and began to stroke him. ‘You can be so good, you know that?’_ _

__Malfoy shook his head in protest._ _

__‘Don’t do that. You know it’s true. You know you can be so good when you want to be. You’re doing it now. You’re doing so very, very well,’ Harry insisted, slowing down his rhythm and increasing the pressure just so._ _

__Malfoy whimpered, but shook his head again. ‘No, I’m not. I’m not!’_ _

__‘Yes, you _are_.’ Harry punctuated it with a twist of his wrist at the head, and Malfoy made a strangled sound of pleasure. ‘You’re so good for me, Malfoy. You can be so good.’_ _

__‘No, I’m not--’ Malfoy cut off on a high whine when Harry let go of him entirely. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ he said quickly. His eyes flew open, and they were less green now. They were fading into grey. The scar was fading too, and Harry smiled at him. ‘I’m so sorry, Potter,’ Malfoy repeated, bucking his hips up. ‘Please, please.’_ _

__Harry began to stroke him again, slow and steady. Building. ‘So good for me,’ he whispered._ _

__‘Do you, fuck, Potter, do you--’ Malfoy cut off with a long moan. He arched up and rolled his hips into Harry’s downward stroke. ‘Can you...you can, please, please, say it, please?’_ _

__‘Not yet,’ Harry replied. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked over his thumb before he pressed it back to the head of Malfoy’s cock, rolling it over the tip and drawing out a stream of pre-come. ‘Not yet, Malfoy, not yet. But soon. Because you’re doing so, so well. You are. You’re doing so well for me.’_ _

__‘Oh, fuck, fuck, please, fuck me, Potter. Please, please, fuck me!’ Malfoy squirmed beneath him, and Harry slowed down again, an agonizing pull from root to tip. ‘Oh, Merlin, _please_ ,’ Malfoy all but sobbed._ _

__‘Not until you’re _you_ ,’ Harry said. _Not until you know you only have to be you_ , he thought, as he took away his hand and bent his head instead._ _


	5. Chapter Five: The fifth time, Malfoy fought him.

**Chapter Five:** _The fifth time, Malfoy fought him._

Malfoy cast beautifully. There was just something so elegant about the way he flicked his wand and called out spells; more a dance than an attack. Each target fell one by one until Malfoy was stood at the head of the semi-circle, panting heavily from exertion and sweat gleaming on his skin.

‘Great work,’ Harry called, as he stepped forward into the gym.

If he was surprised, Malfoy didn’t show it. He carefully returned his wand to the standard-issue arm holster, and said, ‘Been watching long?’

Harry shook his head. ‘Only a few minutes.’

Malfoy made a noncommittal noise. ‘You heard, then?’

‘Came down as soon as I did. I would have been sooner, but--’

‘--but you were busy doing important things,’ Malfoy cut him off easily. The tense set of his shoulders betrayed him, though. Harry moved closer, and Malfoy turned to him finally. He looked exhausted, but angry as well, at least until he noticed Harry noticing, and it all disappeared under a placid mask. ‘Big case, I’m sure?’

‘Just paperwork. Look, Malfoy,’ Harry said quickly, ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘About what?’ Malfoy replied lightly.

‘Don’t play daft. It’s me. You don’t have to pretend with me,’ Harry rejoined. ‘It’s okay to have wanted this. It’s more than okay.’

Malfoy rolled his eyes. ‘I _don’t_ want it. It was a laugh, nothing more.’

But Harry knew him better by now. Harry knew that Malfoy’s tone was only sneering because he was disappointed. Malfoy was only dismissive because he was hurt. It tugged at something in Harry. It poked at the determination inside of him that justice be done. Malfoy had worked hard to prove himself worthy of respect, had fought tooth and nail to get through the pre-training programme, had excelled every step of the way, and it was obvious to Harry that at the end of it all, a personal prejudice against Draco Malfoy was the reason he hadn’t passed the examination.

‘Then why are you still here?’ Harry asked quietly.

‘Well, it’s not the facilities,’ Malfoy replied nastily. ‘I’ve got a much better gymnasium at the Manor.’

‘Then why,’ Harry repeated, taking another step closer.

Malfoy looked away and didn’t answer for a long moment. Then, he laughed bitterly and said, ‘Doesn’t matter, I suppose. I’m going to go now.’

‘I could give you a reference,’ Harry offered. He knew immediately, though, that it was the wrong thing to say.

Malfoy glared at him, cutting and cool. ‘I think you’ve done rather enough of speaking for me, Potter,’ he spat. ‘I suppose I never thanked you for that, did I? Well, ta much, Potter, but keeping me out of Azkaban seems to have been the extent of your sodding influence. And anyway, I don’t need your bloody help to get into the sodding stupid Aurors. Who’d want to be a fucking Auror anyway?’

It felt so much like before, so much like long ago, that Harry’s first instinct was to respond in kind. But so much had also changed between them. Harry knew what Malfoy felt like inside, knew what Malfoy really needed from him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he then said again. ‘I just know you worked hard, and I’m sorry that it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to do.’

‘It was just a _laugh_ , Potter, what part of that don’t you understand? I don’t fucking care!’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t believe you,’ Harry challenged. He stepped closer again, and Malfoy met him, eyes flashing dangerously, but at least it was genuine emotion. At least Malfoy wasn’t hiding. ‘Tell me again how you don’t care,’ Harry continued, voice pitched low. ‘Tell me again how you don’t give a single fuck about being an Auror, and try to make me believe it.’

‘I don’t fucking care,’ Malfoy hissed, leaning down into Harry’s face. ‘The Aurors are a great stupid lot of fucking wankers who can’t get anything right, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would want to be one. Anyone who wants to be an Auror must be playing with a few cards short of the deck.’

‘Mmm,’ Harry replied, teasing now. ‘Better, but I’m still sensing some desperation. Too many pointless insults, not enough substance. Try again.’

Malfoy bumped his chest against Harry’s, and when Harry only grinned at him, he snarled, ‘Fuck you, Potter!’

‘Is that what you want?’ Harry splayed a hand across Malfoy’s sternum, and Malfoy gasped. Eyes widening and darkening, he leaned in a bit closer to Harry’s hand. Harry lifted each finger and pressed each in turn against Malfoy’s bare skin. Malfoy’s chest rose and fell beneath Harry’s hand quicker as his pulse and breathing picked up. ‘Malfoy,’ Harry said, quietly.

‘Potter,’ Malfoy replied, his voice ragged from desire.

‘You could if you wanted. You could fuck me all night if you wanted to,’ Harry said. ‘But first you have to make me believe you that you don’t care about this Auror business.’

‘I don’t…’ Malfoy trailed off, looking uncertain.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Harry insisted. ‘So either make me believe it or tell me the truth. Your move.’

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing for a long moment.

Harry sighed. ‘Fine. But we should go,’ Harry continued. But his feet wouldn’t move. His fingers trailed along instead down the rough, scarred bit of skin that bisected Malfoy’s pale chest. He traced the mark he’d left on Malfoy’s body years ago, slid down to Malfoy’s stomach. The muscles there twitched under Harry’s attention, and Malfoy’s breath hitched again in his throat.

‘Potter, I need you,’ he murmured.

‘I’m here,’ Harry answered, and he drew his hand back up until it rested lightly at Malfoy’s throat. He traced the hollow with his thumb, and Malfoy exhaled a soft moan. ‘But we have to get out of here now. You were supposed to have-- I mean, the test is long finished by now. There’ll be no one left on the floor, and the alarm will start soon. Let me take you home.’

‘P-please, I—’

Harry dropped his hand and stepped back, as he interrupted, ‘No, please Malfoy, let’s get out of here. Let me take you home.’

Anger flared hot and righteous in Malfoy’s eyes. His hands curled into fists and he lunged forward. ‘You fucking, you – you, you – fuck you, Potter!’ he cried out, struggling against Harry, who had deftly caught him.

‘That’s it, get angry,’ Harry urged, pressing his words against the thin, sensitive skin behind Malfoy’s ear. ‘Get furious, Malfoy, because you should be. You should be so fucking furious.’

Malfoy continued to struggle until he hooked an elbow into Harry’s gut. Harry let go with a cry and doubled over, and Malfoy whirled around to drag Harry up and land a heavy punch to Harry’s jaw. ‘Why do you keep doing this?’ he shouted, as Harry dropped heavily to his knees. ‘Why are you always doing this? Why are you always there? You shouldn’t care about me! You shouldn’t give a fuck about me, Potter, I’m not fucking worth it! Why are you always, always fucking there for me?’

‘Why-- why wouldn’t I be?’ Harry croaked, still attempting to get his wind back.

Malfoy growled and dropped to a crouch, dragging his hands through his hair and mussing it thoroughly. ‘I don’t need your fucking help. I can, fuck-- I can do this on my own! I don’t need you. I don’t _need_ you--’ Malfoy stilled when he cut himself off, and the look on his face cut sharply into Harry’s chest, nearly leaving him breathless again.

Harry slowly lowered himself to the mat, sitting first and then lying down flat. The adrenaline of the last few moments thundered through him, and he willed himself to breathe steadily, slow his heartbeat and get back under control.

‘Potter, I didn’t mean…’

‘This is where we always end up, isn’t it?’ Harry began, when Malfoy didn’t seem to want to finish what he didn’t mean. ‘Anger and blood.’ Harry’s hand rose to his lip, and he dragged his thumb slowly over the swell, clearing away the crimson trickle.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Malfoy replied. Harry heard rather than saw him crawl across the small space between them. Malfoy laid down next to Harry, and when Harry turned his head just enough to look, Malfoy was staring resolutely at the ceiling, expression tense and guarded.

‘Did it feel good?’ Harry then asked.

Malfoy flicked the barest glance Harry’s way, before he raised and looked at his hand. He flexed his fingers, curled them back into a fist, shook them loose again, and then dropped his hand at his side again. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘It’s…it’s different than it was before.’

Harry laughed bitterly, wincing slightly from the pain in his jaw. ‘That was your boot, not your fist. Feels different when it’s skin on skin, I guess.’ His lip already felt fatter than before, and he knew a bruise was not far behind. Still, he managed a small smirk, a parody of the one Malfoy was so fond of giving him, and he laughed again when Malfoy turned his head and attempted to answer with a sneer. ‘Anger and blood,’ he repeated, almost to himself.

Malfoy muttered something too quietly for Harry to hear, and then Harry felt Malfoy’s fingers find his own. Harry brought their twined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to Malfoy’s knuckles, hissing gently when it aggravated his injury.

Malfoy pushed himself up, somewhat awkwardly as Harry still had his hand, onto his elbow and leaned over Harry. His eyes searched Harry’s face, and Harry merely looked at him. He took a breath and Malfoy disentangled their hands so he could trace Harry’s swollen lower lip. ‘Oh, Harry,’ he whispered.

‘Draco,’ Harry replied, the weight of the name heavy and intense.

‘ _Harry_ ,’ Draco repeated, pained now. His brow furrowed and he shook his head. ‘It’s unfair.’

‘I know it is, but you can try again. Show them that you don’t give up so easily.’

‘I don’t mean that,’ Draco answered. ‘I don’t care about that.’

‘But you do, though, and that’s okay. You have to know that it’s okay, Draco,’ Harry replied, urgently. He pushed himself up on his elbows and met Draco close. Their chests brushed against each other, Draco’s bare, Harry’s in his uniform reds, and Draco exhaled a soft puff of air against Harry’s lips as he closed his eyes. ‘It’s okay.’

Draco opened his eyes again and looked searchingly at Harry. He shook his head again. ‘It’s so fucking unfair,’ he repeated. Then, he bent forward and kissed Harry.

Harry didn’t care about the sting, the throb in his jaw, because it was Draco’s lips against his own. It was Draco’s urgent, desperate kiss on his lips. They were Draco’s arms slipping around his back, tugging him closer, closer still, as if they could meld into one person. It was Draco leaning against him until they were laid down again. Draco’s body was a sharp, taut line against him, and his cock was heavy and hard pressed to Harry’s own.

Draco ground against Harry, as Harry drew his hands down to dip beneath Draco’s waistband and over the curve of his arse. He squeezed Draco’s cheeks, and Malfoy gasped into his mouth. ‘Fuck, Harry,’ he moaned and humped against Harry’s cock again. ‘I want...I want--’

‘--yes, please, yes,’ Harry begged, before stealing another kiss. He worked his tongue against Draco’s, tasting him, sucking on the tip of his tongue.

They moved together, and Harry could feel his orgasm building too quickly. He didn’t want it to end like this, like a pair of stupid teenagers who couldn’t even get their clothing off. He wanted more. He wanted all of Draco, and he wanted it now.

‘Draco, please,’ he said, reaching down and shoving at Draco’s trousers.

Draco breathed shallowly, and his hands were shaking slightly, but he got the message and pulled back enough to get his trousers and pants off. He carefully removed Harry’s as well. ‘I don’t have any--’

‘--don’t care,’ Harry said, reaching for Draco again. ‘Please just...I need you.’

Draco’s eyes darkened and he moaned. He grabbed for his wand and hastily cast a _Viscus_ before lining himself up and pressing his cock against Harry’s hole.

It burned, and Harry winced as Draco worked his way inside. The charm was never a good enough substitute for real lubricant, but at the moment, Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the feel of Draco inside him, burning with pleasure and pain in equal measures. Because that’s what they were and what they would always be together; all the joy and the pain and the fear and the trust, everything they were together was inextricably bound up in their shared history, where nothing was easy. Everything was earned through anger and blood and sweat and pain.

Draco began to thrust shallowly, his eyes screwed up tight against whatever he was feeling. Harry managed to get a hand up and ran his fingers gently over Draco’s eyelids until Draco opened them again. ‘Harry,’ Draco whimpered. ‘It’s too much, I’m not...I can’t--’

‘--you _can_ ,’ Harry insisted. ‘Draco, you...you’re so good.’

‘Fuck,’ Draco spat, as Harry’s body slowly acclimated and he was able to thrust deeper. ‘Say it...say it again, please.’

‘You’re so good, and you-- fuck, you’re so much better...so much, so much better than you--’ Harry cut off on a high, tight whine when Draco changed his angle and slid hard against Harry’s prostate.

‘Say it again, please, say it, say it, please, please,’ Draco chanted. ‘Tell me I’m good. Tell me I’m good, Harry, please!’

‘You’re so, s-s-so good, Draco. You’re so good,’ Harry repeated. His eyes rolled back, as Draco dragged against that spot inside him again.

‘I’m gonna, fuck, Harry, I’m gonna--’

‘Yes, please, please!’

Draco came hard with a deep, almost painful thrust, and Harry grasped at Draco’s back, holding him there, letting him pump out his release. His own cock was painfully hard and pressed against Draco’s belly, and he just needed a little more friction, a little more anything, the pain was subsiding and all he needed now was anything, he needed anything just a little more anything to get off-- please, please--

‘Come for me, Harry,’ Draco breathed, as he got a hand between them and stroked Harry hard.

‘Don’t pull out, I want to feel--ahh!’ Harry came with cry, and Draco stroked him through it all, carefully, patiently, and only after Harry had stopped shuddering, did he slowly and carefully slide out of Harry’s arse. ‘W-wait, don’t,’ Harry clutched at Draco’s back, ‘d-don’t go.’

Draco didn’t answer for a long moment, though he didn’t move. Then, he raised his eyes to meet Harry’s own, guarded again. Only the tremor in his voice as he spoke again betrayed him. ‘When are you going to stop?’ Draco asked. ‘When does my luck run out and Harry fucking Potter stops caring about what happens to me?’

‘Never,’ Harry answered. ‘That _never_ happens.’


	6. Chapter Six: The last time, Draco asked him.

**Chapter Six:** _The last time, Draco asked him._

Draco slumped down with a whispered exhalation of pain. His neck rested on Harry’s shoulder, and his head tipped back so he would have been looking up at the ceiling were his eyes open. Harry wanted so badly to lift a hand and offer him at least some meagre bit of a comfort -- a hand on his head, a squeeze of his fingers -- but the _Petrificus Totalus_ was absolute, and his wand remained in the hands of their captors.

All Harry could think about was Draco; Draco who had finally passed the examination, who had proven himself again and again, who had kissed Harry goodbye that morning so excited about his first real field mission--

It was supposed to have been fairly routine, but the smugglers had been too prepared for the raid, which led Robards to believe that they’d had someone on the inside all along. Harry just thought they were lucky. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was getting as much back-up to the industrial potions warehouse as possible and bringing as many of the smugglers into holding cells as they could.

All that mattered to Harry was getting Draco out safely.

‘I never thought I would go like this,’ Draco said quietly. Harry strained to hear him over the whir of the fans pushing icy cooling charms around the cabinet and the thundering of his own heart in his chest. ‘I thought I’d be an old man. I wanted to go in my bed, a hundred and seventy years old, with your arms wrapped tight around me.’

Harry’s eyes flicked back and forth, the only part of his body he could move, and he willed himself to break the body-bind. Draco wasn’t shivering anymore, which terrified him. He’d done the lessons, they both had, and Harry knew what it meant when the extreme cold wasn’t making Draco shiver anymore. If only he could move. He needed to move now, now, he needed to move now!

Draco’s voice started to fade, as he continued, ‘I thought I did something good for once. I don’t-- I don’t want to this way. Not this-- not this way, please. Please. Didn’t I...Harry, didn’t I do something good?’

Harry screamed in his head _hold on, please hold on_ , as he fought desperately with himself. He could feel his magical energy pooling in his chest, growing stronger by the moment. He could do this; he could get Draco out, could save them both if only Draco could hold on just a little longer.

Draco slumped further down, and Harry could no longer distinguish his weight against his back from the temperature in the room. He swore in his head, iron will working as hard as he could to do something, anything at all to break the spell and move again. Focus, he had to focus, but it was so hard, so hard when Draco was slipping away by the second.

Harry couldn’t fail. He simply couldn’t. He’d made a promise, so many promises, and he hadn’t broken one yet. He refused to break one now. Not when all he’d ever wanted was to save Draco. He’d wanted to save Draco, and now, now was the time to really do it. Now was the time that Draco needed him most, and Harry was failing. Fuck, he was failing, he was--

‘ _Finite Incantatem_ , _Finite Incantatem_ , _Finite Incantatem_!’ Harry screamed in his head. He had to break the body-bind, he had to get them out to safety. He had to do it, there was absolutely no other option.

He felt weak. He felt so weak and so foolish. He’d been felled by something he could have easily blocked if he’d been thinking even a little bit straighter, had been focussed on the mission instead of what he stood to lose. Fuck, a combination Trip Jinx- _Petrificus Totalus_ , like he was some kind of amateur.

‘Harry,’ Draco whispered. ‘I need you.’

The words struck Harry deep; he felt them pierce his skin like the blade of a knife. ‘ _Finite Incantatem!_ ’ Harry thought fiercely again, and suddenly, the bind dropped away and he could move. He could move. He could _move_ , and he could get them out. He would get them out.

‘Hold on, Draco, please hold on.’ Harry scrabbled on the ground, seeking out Draco’s wand. It was broken, but at least it was something. He immediately tried to cast as strong a warming charm as he was able in both his and its weakened state. He then lifted Draco from the ground, wrapped his arms tightly around him and Apparated them out of the cooling cabinet, sparing barely a thought for the rest of his team. They’d be all right and could certainly handle themselves. Draco was the priority, the only priority.

They landed with a loud crack, tumbling onto the floor of Harry’s bedroom. Harry immediately rolled off Draco, ignoring the pain in his ribs, the burning in his lungs, the tingling in his skin, as his body acclimated to the warmth of the house. He cradled Draco’s head in his hands. ‘Hermione!’ he shouted, voice hoarse. ‘Fuck, fuck, oh god, Hermione!’

Draco coughed weakly and blood dribbled from his lips. ‘Harry?’ he exhaled.

‘Y-y-you’re going to be okay. I promise. You’re g-going to be okay, just hold on, Draco.’ Harry cast another warming charm and yelled for Hermione again.

The bedroom door flung open, and Ron and Hermione burst inside. ‘Harry, what on earth-- oh!’ Hermione rushed to his side and knelt down, her hands fluttering nervously over Draco for only a moment. She snapped herself to business-like attention and called sharply to Ron, ‘Get on the Floo. Get a Healer here immediately. Harry, I need you to move back.’ She withdrew her wand and waved it over Draco’s chest in a complex pattern.

‘Help him, p-please,’ Harry pleaded. He didn’t want to move, but he slid back just enough for Hermione to have space. If anyone could fix this, whatever it was, it was her.

‘I think he’s Splinched. Not sure where, but something’s...something’s wrong, Harry. I’m not a Healer, and I can’t get a read on him,’ she explained, voice tense and shoulders hunched up around her ears.

‘W-we-we were in a c-c-cooling cabinet, in-industrial-strength ch-charms, and it-it, f-f-fuck Hermione--’

‘--oh Harry, you’re freezing.’

‘I’m f-fine, I’m not important, j-just help him, please, Hermione,’ Harry urged, willing himself to stop shaking. There was no time to worry about him. He didn’t matter here, not now. He glanced down at Draco, who had closed his eyes and was breathing shallowly. ‘Please, Hermione, you have to--’

‘--I’ve got the Healer!’ Ron shouted, as he burst into the room. The Healer came just after him and went immediately to Draco’s side.

‘All right, Ms Weasley, will you help me levitate the patient onto the bed there? Easy, that’s it, one...two...three!’ They brought Draco onto the bed, and then the Healer waved her wand over Draco in the same pattern that Hermione had. Her expression grew as grave as Hermione’s too.

‘What is it? What is it? Is he Splinched? Can you fix it? You have to fix it!’ Harry cried out.

‘Harry, mate, come on, let’s let the Healer work,’ Ron said, pulling Harry back by the forearm. ‘You should be in front of the fire.’

‘I’m fucking fine! Just let me--’

‘--Harry, please!’ Hermione cried. ‘She can help Malfoy, but you have to let her. Now go sit in front of the fire and get warm. That’s an order!’

Harry deflated, but as he watched the Healer performing another complicated-looking spell over Draco’s body, the fight returned to him. ‘I’m not leaving until I know he’s going to be all right.’

‘He’s bleeding internally,’ the Healer said urgently.

Horrified at the thought that he had caused this, Harry rushed forward again and came to Draco’s side. ‘Did I...fuck, did I--’

‘It may have been exacerbated by your hasty Apparation, but he must have been injured before,’ she answered.

‘Can’t you heal him? Hermione,’ Harry turned to her, ‘you’ve fixed Splinches before...you-you have to, you have to do something, please.’

‘Harry,’ Hermione said quietly, tensely. ‘I know this is difficult--’

‘Harry?’ Draco’s eyes flew open. They were dull and listless, and his skin looked paler even than before. He still felt so cold.

‘Draco,’ Harry breathed. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

‘It hurts.’ Draco coughed again, blood and spittle flying from his lips again.

‘Just hold on, please. You’re doing so well. You just need to hang on a bit longer. Can you do that for me? Please?’

Draco nodded, wincing from the movement.

‘Step back, Mr Potter, please. Let me work,’ the Healer then said.

Harry let himself step back. He stumbled a bit, but Ron was there suddenly, wrapping his arms around Harry’s chest and holding him up. Ron rested his chin on Harry’s head, and then Hermione joined them too, slipping her arms around Harry’s waist and settling against his side. The warmth of them flooded Harry, and slowly, he stopped shivering. He hadn’t even noticed he was still so afflicted, but slowly, he began to feel normal again-- As normal as it could, he supposed, while still hurting so badly that it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Everything felt heavier; his body sagged against Ron and Hermione, like someone had filled his limbs with sand. His head fogged over, and his eyes blurred with tears. It hurt so, so much. Why did it always have to hurt? Why did everything have to feel like it was being ripped from him, even though he gave it so freely? He always gave it so freely. Couldn’t they just--

‘Hermione, what if he--’

‘--don’t even say it,’ Ron interrupted. ‘You got him back here. It’s going to be okay.’

Harry took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, trying to quell the stinging in his eyes. Ron was right; he didn’t need to even think about it because everything was going to be fine. He’d gotten them out. He’d saved them. But it still hurt so much.

After what felt like hours, the Healer stepped back from the bed and turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Her expression was blank, but Harry only had eyes for Draco. ‘Draco?’

‘Harry,’ Draco said, voice hoarse, but steady.

Harry dashed back across the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed. ‘You did so well, Draco. You were so, so good,’ Harry praised, sliding his hand through Draco’s hair.

Draco hummed in the back of his throat, and his lips curved up in a slow smile. ‘Was not. I got us stuck in there.’

‘You did not. They broke your wand and knocked you out. That’s not your fault, it’s theirs,’ Harry insisted. He brushed Draco’s hair back again. ‘You were amazing.’

‘You’re a terrible liar, Potter,’ Draco replied.

Harry laughed softly. ‘I’ve been told that before actually.’

‘Harry,’ Hermione called.

Harry turned to her for only a moment. She gave him a significant look and then she, the Healer and Ron left the bedroom. Harry easily turned back to Draco again. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Hurts less,’ Draco said.

‘That’s good. That’s really good,’ Harry replied. ‘You’re going to start feeling better in no time at all.’

‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to lie?’ Draco raised his hand and covered Harry’s wrist. He stroked gently along the scar with his thumb. ‘Would’ve thought that lesson would have sunk in a bit better. But then, you never did have much respect for authority.’

‘Fuck off, you,’ Harry said, as a smile tugged at his lips.

Draco hummed again, softer this time. ‘You love me,’ he said.

‘I love you,’ Harry repeated, grasping Draco’s hand tightly in his own.

Draco took a shuddery breath in and out and then smiled. ‘Fuck you, you absolute arse,’ he said, squeezing Harry’s hand in return.

Harry let out a surprised laugh. ‘Fuck you too,’ he replied.

‘I’m going to be fine, wanker. No thanks at all to you,’ Draco continued. His voice had grown softer still, and he closed his eyes. ‘I just need--’

‘--a little rest, I think, and you should be fine,’ Harry finished for him. He crawled into the bed next to Draco, and Draco cuddled in closer to him. ‘You just close your eyes for a bit, Draco. I’ll be here when you wake up.’

After a long, quiet moment, Draco whispered, ‘Harry, can you...will you say it now?’

Harry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. ‘Draco there’s...there’s nothing--’

‘--But I...please, Harry. Please tell me.’

‘No, Draco, really. You’re...you did-- there’s really nothing to--’ Harry cut off again. He couldn’t. He might have been able to do it once, but he couldn’t anymore. Because he had to mean it, and he didn’t think that he meant it now. Not when so much had changed. Not when everything had changed.

Draco sighed and burrowed his face into Harry’s neck. ‘Please? You said you would...you promised you would.’

But there was nothing to forgive. No matter that Draco wanted to hear it, there was nothing to forgive anymore. There was no need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/57190.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at [hd_erised @ livejournal.com](http://hd_erised.livejournal.com/). The author will be revealed January 8th.


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